The True Princes Of Gotham
by Flamegirl217
Summary: An old...friend, comes to visit Bruce Wayne.


**A/N:** First attempt writing Batman Beyond, first attempt writing Terry McGinnis. Reviews/constructive criticism is appreciated.

Wayne Manor was dark and dismal, as it had been for years. You would think that with the recent emergence of its owner, the place might have seemed a bit more lively, but no. It remained gloomy, brooding, and uninviting.

Now who did we know that sounded like that?

A sleek black car, a small limousine really, slid smoothly to a stop near the front gates. The chauffer, young enough to seem like he wasn't yet suited for a license, glanced in the rear view mirror to the passenger in the back seat, whose gaze was focused on the gates. A young man in a brown jacket was approaching.

"Well well, who do we have here?"

The young man pressed the button on the intercom, and a moment later the gates unlocked and opened with a slow creak. The chauffer once again looked at his passenger, waiting for his instructions. The passenger smiled.

Terry ascended the front steps of the gloomy home, passing Ace as he went. Bruce was waiting like he always was, cane in hand and a deep frown set on his face.

"You're late." He spoke gruffly.

"Ran into some traffic." Terry shrugged in response, but then frowned in confusion as he jerked a thumb in the direction of the door, "By the way, is that your car outside?"

"What car?" Bruce's eyes narrowed slightly, and he and Terry turned as Ace started barking loudly at an unseen intruder.

"Get down, you annoying mutt!" A voice exclaimed, muffled through the door, and Bruce bristled. Terry looked at him before moving cautiously towards the door, laying a hand on the doorknob.

"Open it." Bruce commanded, voice stern. Terry glanced at him before doing as he was told. Standing before them, ready to strike Ace with the cane in his hand, was a man who looked almost as old as Bruce. He stopped and turned his head in surprise, staring for a moment before returning his attention to the hound that almost bit into his arm.

"Down, Ace." Bruce's tone didn't change, and neither did his expression, "He's not going to hurt anyone." Ace retreated, and the man took a moment to smooth his perfectly styled quiff. He was tall, dressed smartly in a dark green waistcoat and matching tie. The golden cufflinks glinted slightly as he moved, and a pair of rectangular-framed glasses rested on his nose. All in all, the man's attire presented an outright formality and elegance.

"Do you know this guy?" Terry asked, unaware that Wayne had any acquaintances that were still _alive_.

"Of course he does." A grin spread on the visitor's face, and Bruce frowned.

"Nygma. You've aged well."

"Can't say the same for you, can we, Brucey-boy." He smiled again, this time more smug than joyful. It took a moment, but then Terry realised.

Nygma. As in, E. Nygma.

"The Riddler?!"

"Formerly." Edward snapped, smile disappearing in place of a hostile scowl. Terry was about to reply, disliking being spoken to like that, but Bruce beat him to the punch.

"What are you doing here, Edward?" He questioned. Edward pushed Terry aside and invited himself in, strutting in confidently. Upon a second look, you could see that the curved part of the cane was really a golden question mark.

"A recent case has brought me back to this godforsaken city, so I thought I'd swing by and say hello."

"It's never that simple with you." Bruce replied curtly, and Edward pouted as he held a hand to his chest.

"I'm hurt, Bruce." He turned and pointed with his cane to Bruce, "I thought you might appreciate a visit, what with you stuck here all by your lonesome." Terry saw the subtle glare that was sent his way, and he stepped forward to interject.

"He's got plenty of company." Terry snapped, and Edward chuckled.

"So I see." He turned and resumed walking, "I have hands, yet I cannot hold, and I have a face, yet I cannot speak. What am I?"

"A clock." Bruce replied without blinking, and followed after Nygma as fast as he could, "And don't even think about it."

"Try and stop me, Brucey!" Edward called back, laughing as he quickened his pace. Terry shook his head before following. The two of them were like a squabbling divorced couple. He could still hear Bruce shouting at Edward as he reached the dimly lit office, where the old man was standing between the former prince of puzzles and the clock that doubled as the secret entrance to the Batcave.

"Oh for the love of god, Bruce, can't you stop being a spoilsport for once in your life?!" Edward whined, but Wayne stood firm.

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Pretty please?"

" _No_."

"Hope I'm not interrupting." Terry spoke up, and the two stopped and turned their gaze to him. Edward frowned, and looked at Bruce.

"New Robin?"

"No, I'm-" Terry cut himself off mid-sentence, "Wait, he knows!?" Edward smiled as he tapped the side of his nose.

"Of course I _know_ , you troglodyte."

Bruce still seemed unhappy with this sudden impromptu visit.

"I'm retired."

"Aren't we all?" Edward chuckled. Terry was still hung up on the whole secret identity thing.

"If he knows, then how come he didn't tell everyone?" He questioned, gesturing wildly, "I thought he was supposed to be one of your 'greatest' enemies."

"That would spoil the game, wouldn't it?" Edward replied flatly, and Bruce moved towards the antique mahogany desk.

"It's always a game to you." Bruce sat down in his chair, and Edward frowned sadly.

"Not everything, my dear Dark Knight."

Bruce was silent for a minute, then sighed and pointed to Terry.

"This is Terry McGinnis. I've taken him under my wing." The unintended pun caused a faint smile on the felon-turned-detective's face, "He's the new Batman." Nygma raised an eyebrow before stepping to Terry, leaning over him.

"Well well well, so _you've_ taken up the cape and cowl, have you?"

"Something like that."

"Oh no 'something' about it." Edward stood up straight, looking down on Terry with a firm expression, "The old buffoon doesn't give his trust away easily, young man, trust me on that."

"And the self-obsessed man-child doesn't shut up easily." Bruce retorted, "Trust me on _that_."

Edward chuckled with an affectionate smile.

"Oh Wayne, you _do_ remember." He teased.

Terry shook his head again, but stopped when Bruce looked at him.

"Go down to the cave, Terry. I'll join you in a few minutes." He instructed, quickly returning his gaze to Nygma. Terry looked between the two, then cautiously went to the clock, activating the secret entrance and slipping inside. Bruce waited until McGinnis was out of earshot before speaking again.

"You dyed your hair."

Edward grinned, strutting over and leaning against the desk.

"I never pegged you for a quitter, Brucey." Edward crossed his arms, still smiling.

"I didn't have a choice." Bruce replied, and Edward's smile faded.

"Bruce, seriously." His arms dropped by his sides as he turned to face his former nemesis, expression changing with concern, "I didn't come here just to chat. I was worried. For all I knew you could have been dead in a ditch."

"I don't need your sympathy, Nygma." Bruce replied flatly.

"Well maybe if you played along I wouldn't have to!" Edward snapped. He stopped and blinked with an odd frown, as if he'd been hit by a sudden wave of déjà vu.

"Anyways, I figured that if I _had_ to return to this crime-infested hellhole, then I might as well visit the only friend I had left."

"I'm sure you've made plenty of friends, Mr Popular." Bruce, despite his attempt at humour, didn't seem particularly engaged in their conversation. Edward frowned and walked around the piece of furniture between them, standing in front of Bruce as he gave him a defiant look, and sat on the desk.

"That desk's older than I am, you know." Bruce remarked, looking up.

"Which is saying something." Edward taunted, locking his gaze. The two stared at each other for a few minutes, and then Edward smiled and sighed contentedly.

"…You're still a nuisance."

"And you're still stubborn." Edward's smile didn't falter as he leant forward. He missed this, battling wits and trading verbal blows with his favourite Dark Knight, the one person who had ever been able to intellectually challenge him. Everyone back in Metropolis had the combined brainpower of a sack of potatoes.

"I'm surprised you managed to stay out of trouble after all these years, Edward." Bruce, despite knowing better, had thought that in the years since their last encounter Nygma might have matured, but that obviously wasn't the case.

"Oh I wouldn't say that, exactly." Edward chuckled, "I've gotten into plenty of confrontations in my current career. I once had to fight off an angry, muscle-bound Neanderthal with a knife, and I barely managed to overpower him."

"I'll take that into consideration Ed, the next time Terry needs help." Bruce gave him the benefit of a doubt. Edward laughed and rose from the desk, shaking his head as he stepped to the side of Bruce's chair.

"That little pipsqueak?" Edward leant against the chair, still laughing, "Why on Earth did you choose _him_?" Bruce frowned and looked away.

"It's a long story."

Edward noticed the sudden change in mood, and he looked at Bruce curiously.

"Let me guess, you felt sorry for him? His parents died?" There was a hint of mockery in his voice, and Bruce tensed.

"You said you wouldn't talk about that."

"And _you_ said you would never mention when you caught me on a rooftop because I tripped over my own shoelace, but here we are." Edward retorted. Bruce frowned, and Edward put a hand on his arm.

"I would never make fun of you for something like that, honestly. I'm not that tasteless idiot of a clown." He told his former nemesis quietly.

"The Joker's gone." Bruce replied firmly, not exactly overjoyed towards the mention of the deceased terror of Gotham, "Forever."

"Thank goodness for that." Edward replied. He stood and retrieved his cane from where it leant against the desk, hooking it on his arm as he fixed his waistcoat.

"I assume that your contact details are still the same." Nygma glanced at Bruce briefly, "In case I ever need advice for a case, or, you know, to tell you that I'm coming over."

"I thought you said you'd never come back to Gotham." Bruce teased.

"Oh I don't intend to." Edward agreed before smirking, "But like I said, the only real friend I have left is here." Bruce slowly rose from his chair, Edward secretly watching in case he needed help, before the two stood in front of each other.

"You don't have to visit on my account, Nygma." Bruce told him, "I can look after myself." Edward smiled warmly.

"My dear Dark Knight, that's the one thing you've never been able to do."

He turned to make his leave, Bruce watching silently until Edward reached the middle of the room, and suddenly stopped.

"Face it, Batman." His eyes glinted as he looked back over his shoulder, "You're no match for my intellect."

Bruce knew what he was trying to do, and it was incredibly immature.

"You'll never win, Riddler." Bruce smiled. It had been twenty-five years, so sue him.

"Don't I know it." Edward chuckled, and walked out the door. Bruce gave another small smile, and turned towards the clock. As he reached it, Edward's voice called back from the front of the house.

"You might want to buy a muzzle for that mutt of yours as well!"


End file.
